


The Shepard-Vakarian Love Nest

by ellebeedarling



Series: No Shepard Without Vakarian [2]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, M/M, Smut, custom Shepard - Freeform, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-18 00:29:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11279970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellebeedarling/pseuds/ellebeedarling
Summary: Shepard and Garrus have the apartment to themselves for the whole weekend, and they plan to put it to good use.**Sequel to Just a Little Stress Relief





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThreeWhiskeyLunch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThreeWhiskeyLunch/gifts).



> For ThreeWhiskeyLunch for her birthday and for being so kind and encouraging! :) 
> 
> Based on an ancient kmeme prompt I found requesting fun, silly, sexy times at the Citadel apartment.
> 
> Title comes from a comment made by Liara in the Citadel DLC about the apartment being the Shepard-Vakarian Love Nest.
> 
> **
> 
> M!Shep/Garrus Weekend of Fun
> 
> http://masseffectkink.livejournal.com/9115.html?thread=43435419#t43435419
> 
> Garrus and MShep spend a weekend of shore leave alone in Shepard's Citadel apartment enjoying each other's company in various ways including:  
> -Watching and critiquing hilariously bad movies (Blasto binge anyone?)  
> -Cuddling  
> -Shepard trying to cook Garrus a dextro meal and failing miserably (or vice versa)  
> -Trying their hands at a video game and getting extremely competitive  
> -And of course, sexytimes galore.
> 
> Not required but bonus points if sexytimes include:  
> -Having sex multiple times over the weekend  
> -Both topping and bottoming at various points  
> -Bondage (with gags, preferably with both taking turns tied up)  
> -Giving each other blowjobs  
> -Snuggles and kissing after sex
> 
> Give us loads of sweet fluff and delicious smut! Lets give these two a wonderful time! 
> 
> **
> 
> It's mostly just porn with plenty of silliness thrown in the mix! :) (and there's no bondage or anything like that, even though the prompt asked for it)

“So,” Garrus drawls, eyes sweeping the sprawling apartment. “You've got the most advanced warship in the galaxy, now the swankiest apartment on the Citadel-”

 

“Don't forget the sexiest turian boyfriend in existence,” Shepard says, wrapping his arms around said turian's waist and giving his mouth plates a little nibble.

 

“Well, that goes without saying.” Garrus nuzzles into Shepard's neck, relishing the shiver that races through the human's body. “Three whole days to ourselves, huh?”

 

“Three... Whole... Days...” Each word is accented by a nip to the turian's mandible. “What are you going to do to me?”

 

“I have a few ideas there, actually.”

 

“Show me.”

 

Garrus leads him toward the couch – they have all weekend after all – and shoves him down onto it. Shepard lands with a bounce and a laugh then surges forward, gripping Garrus by the carapace and yanking him down on top of him. Shepard has taught him a lot about life in general, sex in particular, and kissing is one of those things that Shepard had introduced him to but which he now feels confident in calling himself somewhat of an expert at. Hell, they practice often enough. Shepard's brown eyes gaze up at him, a smile playing at his mouth as Garrus uses his firm plates to nip at the human's plump lips. Their tongues meet in the middle somewhere, and Tristan's eyes drift closed, a hushed moan slipping into the air.

 

For once, time is on their side, so they lay like that – kissing languidly, hands wandering aimlessly, breaths mingling between them – until Shepard finally pushes for a little more. His deft fingers slip between the plates at the turian's waist, and it really isn't fair that Garrus has this 'magic button' – as Tristan calls it – that basically turns him on instantly and has his plates shifting and his cock sliding out in one fell swoop. Shepard has no such buttons. Well, none that garner such an instantaneous response, at any rate. There is that one spot, just a tad below and behind Shepard's ear, that makes him jump and throw himself against the turian, every single time, and typically makes him beg for more of something. Garrus decides to retaliate by licking the spot, and sure enough, Shepard arches off the couch and begins frantically pawing at the turian's clothes.

 

Breathy panting and moaning fill the air, along with the turian's dark chuckle, and, forgetting that they are on a narrow couch and not the bed in the captain's quarters of the Normandy, Shepard rolls them over and right off into the floor. They are both so startled for a moment that neither of them moves, but then their eyes meet and laughter bursts forth, and Garrus wraps his arms tightly around his lover and holds him as they both shake helplessly in their amusement. Shepard sits up, rocks back against Garrus' cock, which springs to life with renewed vigor, and smiles affectionately down at the turian. “Ever had rug burn on your ass?” Shepard asks, smile morphing to something a little more smug.

 

“Can't say as I have.”

 

“Well, here in a minute, you can check it off your bucket list.”

 

Garrus isn't exactly sure what he means by that, but he forgets to care when Tristan leans down and takes the tip of his mandible into his mouth, then dips his fingers into the plates at his waist again. By the time they're naked and Shepard has worked his way down to Garrus' dick, he is a writhing mess. It figures that Shepard has a packet of lube in his pocket. He always seems to have one on hand, and Garrus doesn't really want to ponder exactly what that says about the two of them. He simply enjoys the pleasure afforded by the habit.

 

Shepard reaches a hand up and taps on Garrus' omni-tool with a gleam in his eye. The turian has forgotten all about the antihistamine they need to ensure their safety, so addled is his brain at the moment. Good thing one of them has kept a clear head. He feels the sting of the injector against his wrist, hears Shepard tapping on his own 'tool, then feels the human's supple lips pressing tiny kisses up and down the length of him. An icy, wet finger slips inside him, and Shepard sucks him right into his mouth in one motion. Garrus bucks and makes a truly undignified noise that has his human lover humming a laugh around the cock in his mouth.

 

Exactly why Shepard has to be expert at every single thing he touches, is beyond Garrus, but here again he doesn't exactly have the brain capacity to do too much questioning. Besides, the benefits he reaps are just too damn satisfying to really care all that much. He honestly isn't sure what he'd fallen in love with first - the man? or his mouth? Shepard is great and all, and Garrus does love him, but that mouth. Those lips. That tongue, all warm and slick and nimble. It curls around the head of Garrus' cock and his mind blanks. The discomfort of the unforgiving floor and course rug – gone. Only pleasure remains, blotting out any other concerns, and so far gone is he, that he barely notices as his lover adds a second and then third finger inside of him.

 

When Shepard pulls off with a sloppy, wet slurp, Garrus' world edges back into focus, and he lets out another undignified noise causing Shepard to laugh again. “Ready,” he asks, all breathy and desperate, the head of his dick already pressing tight against the turian's entrance.

 

“Spirits, yes!”

 

He is always so meticulous and methodical, Shepard is, and it nearly always drives Garrus to the utter brink of insanity. Shepard likes to take hard and rough and give slow and gentle, and it is both infuriating and delectable at the same damned time. “Tristan, please,” Garrus says, as Shepard slowly inches into him, and it is certainly not a whine.

 

Shepard leans down and brings their mouths together briefly, then peers into the turian's eyes, and there's adoration shining back from the chestnut depths of his eyes. “Have I told you today that I love you?”

 

“About fifteen times,” Garrus says, “now, shut up and fuck me!”

 

Another huff of laughter, another whisper soft touch of lips to plates, and Shepard withdraws, hesitates for maddening seconds with that damnable grin on his face, before snapping forward as hard as he can. Garrus suddenly realizes what he'd meant by rug burn on his ass, but he is so relieved that Shepard is actually _moving_ , he can't be bothered to care. His three-fingered hands slide down his lover's back, gripping his ass roughly and pulling him closer. They find the perfect rhythm – Shepard thrusting, Garrus meeting him stroke for stroke – and it is glorious.

 

Shepard is all beauty and grace. The colored lights from the Silversun Strip dance across his face and hair. The fireplace casts its warm glow on the lovers, and Garrus' eyes track a bead of sweat that trickles down the human's temple. He just has to taste it, and he throws off their rhythm by pulling Shepard to him and licking the droplet from his skin. Shepard groans, struggling to move the way he had been before, neither of them caring that everything is now messy and halting, because it's also perfect and incredible. Five fingers curl around the turian's erection, stroking more evenly and sure than the thrust of the human's hips, but Garrus can tell in the set of Shepard's jaw, the crinkle in his brow, that he is close to his release.

 

A light sprinkling of yellowish hair coats Shepard's chest and belly, and Garrus loves to touch it, so he does. That earns another grin from his lover, and Garrus finally releases him enough that he can move into position, get a better angle, and fuck like he means it. Shepard is gone, lust and ecstasy having replaced higher brain function, and Garrus loves to watch him like this. Blissed out and wild eyed, sandy hair all askew, nonsense bubbling from his lips as his peak rushes closer and closer. “Garrus,” he gasps, mouth hanging open in an 'oh.' The earthy brown of his eyes replaced by black arousal. He is perfection.

 

Garrus purrs, deep in his chest, acknowledging his satisfaction at seeing this man who is constantly worn down under the pressures of the war, able to let go, to find some peace and comfort and joy. His hips stutter and jerk, another drop of sweat lands on Garrus' chest with a tiny splash, and Shepard groans, low and long, as his orgasm overtakes him and he spills into his lover's body. Even in the midst of his own euphoria, Shepard never forgets to see to Garrus' pleasure. His hand continues to jack the turian's cock until he, too, is bowing toward his lover and spilling over the both of them.

 

Shepard slumps against him, breathing erratic, heart beating out a crazy song inside his ribs. Fingers trail through the sweat that has accumulated on their bodies, lips and plates kiss and nip and nibble at the skin they find, and they tuck their bodies around each other as they descend from their high.

 

“I love you too, you know.” Garrus informs him after some minutes.

 

“I know.”

 

“And I don't think rug burn on my ass was something I truly wanted to experience. It actually stings rather painfully.”

 

Shepard snorts, nuzzles into the turian's neck. “Was it not worth it?”

 

“Oh, it was definitely worth it.”

 

“I'll put some medi-gel on your ass in a minute, you big baby... and you can put some on me. I've got rug burns on my knees.”

 

“Maybe we're too old to have sex on the floor.”

 

He starts to protest, but when Shepard tries to sit up, his back cramps up and he lets out a hiss of pain. “You may have a point. There's a hot tub upstairs.” His brown eyes are hopeful as he gazes at his lover.

 

“Turians don't like water, Shepard.”

 

Tristan frowns. “You're not going to drown in it. There's a seat. Come on.”

 

He drags Garrus to the downstairs bathroom, digs out the first aid kit, and sets to work massaging the cooling gel into his lover's ass cheeks, snickering all the while. Garrus keeps shooting daggers at him over his shoulder, but Shepard just leans up and kisses him on the cheek, fingers kneading gently at the abused flesh. When he's finished, he hops up on the counter, naked ass slapping against the cool stone, and Garrus returns the favor on his chewed up knees. Their eyes meet, and they giggle before letting their lips drift together and linger there. Shepard sighs in contentment.

 

As soon as the gel is dry, they trek up the stairs, and Tristan makes Garrus get in the tub first, grinning at the relieved groan he lets out when the hot water envelops him. Seems Shepard has found a secret love of water in his turian partner. Garrus never was a very good turian.

 

Shepard joins him, and they let the heat and the water carry the tiredness right out of their muscles and joints. They are both still young by their species standards, but as the war drags on, so does the wear and tear their bodies suffer on a daily basis. Garrus watches as the weariness slides off Shepard's brow and shoulders, a complacent smile curling his lips. They sit in silence. Relaxed for the first time in the years of their acquaintance. Shepard lets his head loll to the side, flashing a lazy grin at his lover. “This is good, huh?”

 

“This is great, Shepard.”

 

The human moves to the other side of the tub and takes the turian's foot in his hands, thumbs digging into the leathery pads on the bottom. A purr rumbles out, and Garrus lets his head flop back, slumping into the water some more so it can rest on the ledge. Shepard laughs, continues working the tension out of Garrus' body by stroking his fingers over the knots and tight lines of muscle he finds. The turian feels like a bowl of jelly when he's done, and Shepard thinks he hears a small snore coming from his lover.

 

“If you fall asleep in here, you _will_ drown,” he says, suddenly much closer than Garrus remembers him being.

 

One blue eye pops open as Garrus glares at his partner. Shepard grins at him some more, climbs into his lap and starts feathering kisses all over his face and neck. “You can't possibly want to go again.”

 

“Not yet, maybe. Dinner might be nice first,” Shepard murmurs between kisses. “But I'm not wasting having this huge ass apartment to ourselves for three whole days, Vakarian.”

 

“Hm. You make a valid point.”

 

“Of course I do. I'm speaking, aren't I?”

 

Garrus' mandibles flap once, and he rolls his eyes while Shepard waggles his eyebrows. He pushes the human off his lap and dunks him under the water. Drops of water are clinging to the man's body when he rises, and Garrus' eyes are spellbound by the way they glitter in the hair on his chest. He swallows, and of course, Shepard doesn't miss it. Of course he decides to tease him.

 

Shepard climbs out of the tub, water cascading down his skin, and stretches lewdly for a towel, making sure to give the turian a good show, leaving the water clinging to his chest hairs, then sauntering into the bedroom. Garrus curses, hauls himself out of the tub and follows, but Shepard is nowhere to be seen. His mandibles dip into a frown, and he realizes he's dripping water all over the carpet. With a grunt, he returns to the bathroom for a towel of his own. Shepard is wandering out of the closet a moment later in a pair of sweatpants slung low enough on his hips that Garrus can see the vee of muscle at the top of his groin, and he swallows again.

 

“Pizza?”

 

Garrus shrugs. His mouth is watering for something else at the moment, and as Shepard makes his way toward the door, he finds himself being hauled back into the room by his lover and manhandled into the bed. The turian straddles him, pinning his hands above his head. His smirky little grin spreads, “Not hungry, Garrus?”

 

“Dinner can wait.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect updates once per week.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for comments and kudos! I'm just tickled that y'all are enjoying this story! :)

Garrus likes to watch Shepard when he sleeps. The lines of worry and stress melt away, and his face becomes a mask of peace and tranquility. Unless he's having a nightmare, that is. Those nights Garrus has the privilege of being the one person in the galaxy – in the universe – that Commander Shepard turns to for comfort and reassurance. Mercifully, he'd had no nightmares last night, and as the artificial sun of the Citadel cycles back on, Shepard continues to sleep peacefully in his lover's arms. Garrus could get used to mornings like this.

 

Between bouts of screwing last night, they'd ordered pizza and settled in to watch a vid – which they never finished because Shepard is a horny little bastard that can never seem to keep his hands to himself. They'd fucked on another couch, managing not to fall into the floor this time – both of them still wary of rug burn.

 

Shepard had started a list of all the places in the apartment they needed to 'christen,' as he'd called it. An actual physical list, on paper with ink, that they could check off as they went. He was like a kid in a candy store, giggling gleefully with each new addition. At some point, they'd made it upstairs to the bed, where Garrus reciprocated the massage Shepard had given him in the hot tub. The moans and other delicious noises the human made had Garrus hard as a rock by the time it was over, and because he's a horny little bastard too, they'd fucked some more before passing out in sated bliss.

 

Looking at Shepard now, he's pretty sure the man hasn't moved all night long, and he's so beautiful and perfect, that – much as he wants to let the man rest – he can't resist running his fingers through the thick matte of yellowish hair on top of his head. His thumb brushes against the human's temple, resting long enough to feel the throb of his heart beat. Garrus hates Cerberus. Hates that he and Shepard were forced to endure them for the time it took to wipe out the Collectors. But he knows that Shepard would still be dead were it not for them, and so he can't find it in himself to hate them completely.

 

Gray. Shepard has taught him a lot about the gray areas of the universe as well.

 

He likes to think he's taught Shepard a few things, too. Trust for one thing. Shepard is good at reading people, there's no doubt about that, but before they'd entered into the bizarre arrangement that consisted – back then – of fucking for stress relief and little else, he always kept himself distant. Never fully trusting anyone. Garrus knows that the trust came fully during their time together after Omega. After Alchera. Shepard was confused and lonely; Garrus jaded and bitter. And they'd found in each other the solace and the strength needed to go on.

 

After Shepard's death, Garrus had realized the depth of his feelings for the man, and had let himself sink to a place that he was sure there was no redemption from. But when Shepard had returned – miraculously, and turians didn't believe in miracles, especially Garrus, but when your best friend and the man you love dies before your very eyes and then comes back into your life loving you the same as you've always loved him, there's simply no other word for it than _miracle_ – he'd reached a hand out and pulled Garrus out of the quagmire he'd situated himself in, and they'd loved each other through the lonely, bitter time, building trust, building something more than simple stress relief. In their own, twisted way, building a life together.

 

Shepard stirs as the talons comb his hair, gently scratching over his scalp, and he lets out the closest thing he can to a purr. Garrus grins at him. Ever so slowly, Tristan blinks his eyes open, a sleepy smile spreading his lips when he catches sight of Garrus. “Morning,” he mumbles.

 

“Morning yourself. Sleep well?”

 

“Like a rock,” Shepard yawns, rolls over, stretches, highlighting all the fantastic lines of muscle along his torso. “You?”

 

“Hm?” Garrus is so distracted by the naked man beside him, he doesn't even hear the question. Shepard laughs, throws the covers off, and pads toward the bathroom.

 

He pokes his tousled head out of the door at the last minute, “Shower?” One fuzzy eyebrow is quirked up in question, and Garrus is mesmerized by this man that he loves more than he'd ever dreamed he could love anything or anyone. Shepard grins and shakes his head, trusting his lover to follow when he gets his act together. He's already washing his hair when Garrus enters the shower, soap bubbles flowing down those muscles, the crisp, clean scent of his shampoo tickling the turian's nose.

 

Garrus leans a shoulder against the wall and watches the man. He knows Shepard knows, because he starts hamming it up for the turian's benefit. Grabbing a bar of soap, Shepard's hands run all over his body. A fingertip trails around his nipple a few times, then traces the toned lines of his abdominals before delving into the curls between his legs. The turian's hawkish eyes track his every move, watching as his lover's cock grows to life right in front of him. Tristan takes himself into his calloused hand. With slow, purposeful motions, he strokes his hardened length while his other hand comes down to cup and roll his balls. Garrus is torn between watching and joining in, but when Shepard mewls lustily, the turian is spurred into action.

 

The water hits his face as he steps closer to Shepard, and he ducks his head, nipping a sliver of the skin on his lover's neck into his mouth. Tristan laughs a throaty laugh, letting himself be pulled against the turian's body, and they're lost in leisurely kisses and caresses. Shepard bites and sucks at the turian's throat, managing to leave a purple bruise that he's ridiculously proud of and that Garrus will have a hard time explaining away. The turian glares at him, returns the favor, and then he's flipping the human around, pressing him into the wall. Shepard smirks at him over his shoulder, then spreads his legs obscenely, and juts his ass backward, grinding against the turian's groin plates. Garrus rumbles his approval. Shepard does so love to be fucked, which is a rather nice thing for Garrus, since he loves to fuck the man so much.

 

He's still somewhat loose and ready from the night before, so it doesn't take much effort to be sliding home into the tight heat of the man's body. Shepard shudders against him and groans, and everything about him is lascivious and wanton. He thrusts backwards, letting the turian know what he wants, and Garrus is all to happy to oblige him. Wrapping him in his lanky, but strong, arms, the turian holds him with an iron grip while pushing mercilessly up into his body. Tristan is a needy wreck, writhing against the turian and spouting nonsense.

 

Their mouths somehow meet, messy and desperate and even a little awkward, but indescribably hot at the same time. Shepard shifts away so they can both find a little more leverage, and bracing himself against the wall, shoves his hips into the turian's. Garrus' head falls back with a growl at the new angle, the new intensity. Hot water courses over them, mimicking the heat pumping through their veins, but not quite managing to drown out the smell of sex in the room. A symphony of skin slapping against skin, guttural moans, and hoarse utterances and curses assail their ears, accompanied by the patter of water splashing against the tiles, and Garrus is dizzy from sensory overload. His eyes pick up the movement of Shepard's arm as he begins stroking himself frenetically, then they hone in on the spot where his cock is vanishing with each plunge into his lover's body.

 

Shepard comes first, as he usually does, a low keening whine building from the back of his throat followed by a chorus of curses and praises. Garrus pitches forward with a groan of his own, forehead resting between Shepard's shoulder blades, and empties himself into the man's depths. “Holy fuck,” Shepard declares, forehead bumping the shower wall with a thud. “Damn, Garrus. I may not be able to walk after that.”

 

Garrus voices a weak chuckle, “I'm sure you'll manage.” He nibbles along Shepard's shoulders and the back of his neck. “Mmmm... we should start every morning like this.”

 

“Think so?”

 

“Definitely.” He slips out of his lover, and Tristan turns, letting the wall hold him up as he drapes his arms over Garrus' shoulders. They take their time washing each other and kissing listlessly, refusing to leave until the water starts running cold.

 

“I'm starving,” Shepard says as they towel off, and Garrus notices there is a slight limp as he makes his way to the bedroom for some pants. “Think there's somewhere around that delivers breakfast?”

 

“Let me cook for you,” Garrus says, wrapping his arms around the man from behind.

 

“You cook?”

 

“Maybe a little.”

 

“Be my guest.” Shepard turns and plants a gentle kiss on the turian's mouth.

 

“Why don't you get a little nap so you'll be rested up for later,” Garrus smirks. “I'll bring it up when I'm finished.”

 

“Breakfast in bed, even? Who knew you were such a romantic?”

 

Garrus gives him a parting kiss and leaves him to crawl back into bed, where he finds some cartoons and settles down under the covers to wait patiently for his breakfast. He wakes later – not knowing how much time has passed – to the smell of something burning and smoke filling his room. Lurching out of the bed, Shepard races down the stairs coming up short as he enters the kitchen to find Garrus frantically waving a towel over a burning pan on the stove. His eyes survey the room, and other than an enormous mess that will likely take them hours to clean, he sees no damage.

 

“What the hell happened?”

 

The turian shifts around nervously as his eyes take in the mess he's made of Shepard's kitchen. “Well... hmm... It...”

 

Shepard bursts out with a loud guffaw, doubling over as tears stream down his face, and Garrus continues to scan the room helplessly. “It's a lot harder to cook levo food than I thought,” the turian huffs, which only fuels the human's raucous laughter. Shepard begins to complain that his stomach is hurting, for which Garrus slaps him on the shoulder and starts to clean up the mess he's made.

 

When the laughter finally dies down, Tristan wraps his arms around Garrus' waist from behind, nuzzling against his back. “I appreciate the effort,” he says sincerely. “Let me help you clean this up, and I'll take you out for breakfast, huh?”

 

“It's too late. The damage has been done. You'll never let me live this down.”

 

“Probably not, but one day we'll look back on this and both laugh.”

 

“Doubtful.”

 

“Trust me,” Shepard says, and there's still a hint of laughter in his voice. Garrus turns to face him, and this time, Shepard does his best to suppress the giggle that wells up. The turian has food all over him, and black streaks, from handling the burnt bacon, on his face. Tristan kisses him again and again through the smile on his face. “Why don't you go get another shower, and I'll clean this up?”

 

Garrus starts to protest, but concedes culinary defeat and slinks off to clean himself up. Shepard pokes his head into the shower many minutes later to find the turian leaned against the wall. “Hey, are you hiding from me?” His voice is actually tinged with concern, and Garrus can barely meet his eyes. “Come on. It's no big deal, really. I got a good nap and a good laugh, and that's almost better than a good breakfast.” His tone is light and teasing and seems to perk the turian up a little. “Besides, I can't cook for shit, either. I'm impressed you even tried.” That actually has Garrus smiling, and Shepard drags him from the shower so they can get dressed to go out.

 

Shepard gets into a fistfight on their way to breakfast, because a group of humans start shouting xenophobic and homophobic slurs at the pair as they walk through the strip hand in hand. So breakfast is delayed again as the group makes its way to the local C-Sec precinct for questioning. It is probably a lucky break for everyone involved that the commander of the precinct recognizes Shepard instantly when the hecklers and the arresting officers had all failed to do so. Garrus and Shepard are released immediately with profuse apologies from both the commander and the officers. The ruffians simply stare, slack jawed, as the first human Spectre casually strolls out of the office hand in hand with his turian boyfriend.

 

They find a cafe that serves all day breakfast, and Garrus dabs medi-gel on his lover's busted knuckles while they wait for their food, scolding him for letting those morons get under his skin like that. “People can say whatever the fuck they want about me, Garrus,” Shepard growls, “but I'm not going to let anyone disrespect _you_.”

 

He will never admit it, not in a million years or under pain of torment and death, but Garrus' heart skips a beat at Shepard's words. The Great Commander Shepard got into a brawl with a group of hoodlums to defend his honor. Who would have ever thought? They finally get to eat some breakfast, though it's well past noon when they do, and Shepard takes the liberty of arranging to have breakfast delivered to his apartment for the next two days.

 

They christen the downstairs bed when they return, and are still enjoying the afterglow when James and Steve ring the bell on the apartment door. Shepard had forgotten that he'd invited the pair over to watch the bioti-ball game. He'd also forgotten to mention it to Garrus, so now the two of them are scrambling like mad to get their clothes back on and trying not to look like they'd just finished screwing when they go answer the door. They fail, judging by the knowing smirk Steve gives them and the way James refuses to meet their eyes. The fact that Shepard's shirt is on inside out and backwards is probably a dead giveaway.

 

Tristan shrugs and rights his clothing as they make their way to the den to watch the game. James and Steve bet on whether or not Shepard can chose the winner. Shepard and Garrus bet each other a blow job on who's going to win the game, and Tristan gloats to the point that James is red as a beet and Steve is cackling uncontrollably when the Sorcerers win. Although, Steve is pretty far gone due to plundering Shepard's liquor stash, so that might explain why he's so tickled at the moment. James drags a reluctant Steve out of the apartment so, “Shepard can collect on his bet,” and Garrus hoists the man up onto the counter in the kitchen so that he can pay his debt in full.

 

Shepard is panting and wobbly-legged as he checks another room off his list.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter of this one. Thanks so much for reading! Thanks for all the comments and kudos and shares on tumblr! I appreciate it all so very much! :)

Shepard wants them to lay together on the couch and watch a movie – a movie marathon, is actually what he'd said, whatever _that_ is – but they barely fit, and Shepard keeps rolling out into the floor, so they pull all the cushions off the couch and make 'a little love nest' – whatever _that_ is – that they can curl up together on and watch some newish remakes of a series of old earth movies called Die Hard.

 

When the first one is over, Garrus groans, knowing that Shepard will be running round the galaxy shouting “Yippie-ki-yay motherfucker!” as he guns down enemies, from now on. Shepard laughs and thanks him for the idea. They end up falling asleep during the third one, and waking in the morning to the sun streaming in their faces, and discovering that sex on the floor is much more comfortable when you're lying on couch cushions.

 

Their breakfast arrives mid thrust, and Shepard curses because he'd forgotten all about it – again. He throws on his sweats, races to the door to accept the food, and asks the delivery boy to bring the food an hour later tomorrow. The food is left forgotten on the counter in Shepard's haste to get back to what they were doing. When they finally do get to finish, they lie on the cushions in a crumpled heap, gasping for air. “You're wearing me out,” Shepard murmurs, face smooshed against Garrus' side.

 

“We still have a whole day of shore leave left,” the turian reminds him. “Don't tell me you're tapping out already.”

 

“Not on your damn life,” Shepard assures him. “I'm hungry.”

 

Garrus laughs and hoists himself off the floor, traipsing to the kitchen to retrieve their cold breakfast. Tristan wrinkles his nose at the thought of cold eggs. As a soldier, he's eaten worse, however, and a cold bacon and egg on toast sandwich still goes down a lot easier than the protein bars he typically subsists on. They hit the hot tub again, because their sexual escapades have left them with more sore muscles than fighting through a horde of reaper husks. Garrus wonders aloud why no one had ever told him that hot tubs existed before this point in his life. Shepard's grin is smug – as always – and the turian retaliates by dunking him under the water again.

 

That leads to a round of wrestling in the hot tub during which Garrus is in fear for his life more than once, but Shepard reassures him so deftly that they end up fucking again, despite the fact that both of them are sore as hell. The thought crosses the turian's mind that they should perhaps leave the apartment for a little while to give their bodies a rest from each other. The look in Shepard's eyes at the suggestion gives Garrus pause, but they make plans to go out for the evening anyway.

 

Garrus has only seen Tristan in a suit a couple of times. Every time it's unplated him instantly. Tonight is no exception. He's sorely tempted to say to hell with going out, but it was his damned idea in the first place. They're on their way out the door when Shepard gets a call from Anderson that he can't ignore. The turian does the best he can to quell his disappointment, but realizes that they've never had this much uninterrupted time together before. He should be grateful. Tristan apologizes with soft kisses and tells his lover to go ahead, promising to meet him there as soon as he can.

 

He's always felt self-conscious out of armor. Though he knows it's irrational, Garrus feels that every eye in the Silvercoast Casino is on him as he makes his way to the upstairs bar. Though it's been less than an hour since he left Shepard at the apartment, he's antsy by the time his lover finally joins him. Tristan seems to sense his distress, and wraps a strong hand around the back of the turian's neck, rubbing the tension away with firm strokes. “What's wrong?” Shepard asks softly.

 

“Nothing, now.”

 

Earthy brown eyes soften as they gaze at him. “Have I told you today that I love you?”

 

“At least a dozen times,” the turian assures him with a grin. “I love you, too.”

 

Shepard butts his forehead against the turian's temple, a smile of utter happiness gracing his face. His fingers are still digging into the flesh of Garrus' neck, deliberately skating higher and higher. The turian shoots a look at his lover out of the corner of his eye, notices that the smile on the man's face has shifted from happy to devious, and groans – equal parts dread and anticipation. He should have known that Shepard would have something sexy and potentially humiliating in mind when he'd agreed to come out tonight.

 

The turian is saved for a few moments when James Vega shows up, blissfully ignorant of the fact that he's interrupting the couple's date and Shepard's plans. The Commander is glowering at the younger marine, arms over his chest, with that stare that Garrus has seen break grown men. While Shepard is distracted by the lieutenant, the turian decides to get a little payback by slipping his fingers down over the swell of Shepard's ass cheek. Tristan stiffens slightly. Hopefully not just his posture, Garrus thinks. The turian grins as his lover takes a step backward, placing himself between Garrus' legs. Emboldened, his hand slides lower. Shepard widens his stance, sipping on a tumbler of whiskey while pretending to be enthralled with what the lieutenant has to say.

 

Garrus can feel Shepard's balls through the thin fabric of his suit. They seem to be moving quite freely under his touch, which can only mean that the Commander isn't wearing any underpants. The turian feels a thrill of arousal and shifts to make himself more comfortable as his plates begin to drift apart.

 

Vega is blathering on and on about some weapons mods that he'd ordered, and Garrus can feel the shuddering tension in Shepard's body. He's strung tight as a bow, ready to snap at any moment, finally putting that infamous self-control to use for something other than completing the next objective. Garrus slips his free hand under the back of Shepard's jacket, feels the twitch in the human's muscles, feels him quivering ever so slightly beneath his touch. He takes another step closer to the turian, and now his ass is pressed tightly against Garrus' crotch, trapping his hand between them. Since he's stuck, Garrus continues to roll Shepard's balls in his hand, hoping the dim lighting in the bar conceals them.

 

“You okay, Commander?” Vega asks. “You don't look so good.”

 

Shepard downs his drink and clears his throat. “I'm fine Vega. Just feeling a sudden headache coming on. Garrus,” he flicks a heated glance at the turian over his shoulder, “you about ready?”

 

“Hm? Oh, I'm not done with my drink,” Garrus smirks, and Shepard scowls at him. The human tries to shift away from his lover, but the turian quickly tucks his fingers into the man's waistband, effectively holding him in place. He redoubles his attentions between his lovers legs, and he can feel the soft moan Shepard inadvertently lets slip. Even in this low light, he can see the slight red flush creeping its way up Shepard's neck. James' eyes widen slightly, and he quickly makes an excuse as to why he needs to leave.

 

“You are so going to pay for that,” the Commander assures him, turning to face him once more. Shepard steps as close as he can possibly get to his turian lover, hand slipping between Garrus' legs, fingers stroking over the splitting seam of his groin plates that is easily felt through the thin fabric of his suit. Garrus groans loud enough to draw the attention of the bartender, and Shepard shoots a sly look toward the asari as her eyes widen and she hastily moves on to attend to another customer. Garrus scowls at Shepard, but the human does not relent. “Turnabout's fair play,” Tristan murmurs against Garrus' ear, while his fingers continue their assault, and the turian can feel the evidence of his lover's arousal against his thigh. His own cock is slipping out of its confinement, and he's powerless to stop it. If something doesn't change soon, he's going to be in for a world of embarrassment.

 

Shepard's hot breath puffs against his cheek, and Garrus can barely contain the ringing of his subvocals that would alert every turian in the building what was happening. “Tristan, please,” he begs.

 

“Something you need, my love?”

 

Garrus curses under his breath. “Not here... please.”

 

Shepard pulls back to smirk at him, then finally relents, taking his lover by the hand and leading him toward the exit. Once outside, Shepard crowds the turian into the nearest dark corner. Garrus doesn't think anyone's paying them any attention, but it wouldn't be difficult for a passerby to tell what they were doing. His back hits the wall, and Shepard's mouth is on his in an instant. When those many fingers delve into his trousers, Garrus' cock slides free of his plates and right into Shepard's hand. Tristan stops again for another of his infuriating smiles, then gives Garrus a firm stroke from root to crown.

 

“Spirits,” he moans, letting his head fall back against the wall.

 

“Shh... you're going to get us caught.”

 

“Well maybe you should have thought of that before you started jacking me off in the street.” There's no bite behind his words, and he feels more than hears Shepard's laugh.

 

“Well, maybe you shouldn't have been playing with my nuts while I was talking to Vega.”

 

“You loved it and you know it, you pervert.”

 

“I love everything you do, Vakarian,” Shepard murmurs, then tugs the tip of a mandible between his lips. The turian's subvocals ring out of tune at the delicious sensation, and he feels Shepard fiddling with something between them. The human sighs in relief when his freed erection slides against his lover's, and Garrus has the brief thought that it would be really, really bad if this ended up on the nightly news. “No one can see,” Shepard whispers, reading his thoughts.

 

His grip shifts to encompass them both, and Garrus' hand joins his on instinct. They barely move, slowly rocking their hips together into the circle of their fists. Anyone passing would think they were just making out, and the thrill of it is so overwhelming that Garrus can barely hold his orgasm at bay. Shepard untucks his shirt, and drapes it over their cocks to absorb the mess and keep it off their pants, and Garrus can't help but be grateful for the man's genius.

 

Supple lips move along the turian's jaw until they're even with his ear canal. “You're so goddamn sexy,” Shepard murmurs, and his free hand is worming underneath Garrus' tunic, fingers dipping into all the right places before tracing along the lines of muscle that weave around his hard plates. “All this gorgeous muscle underneath your plates. I just want to lick you all over right now, Garrus.”

 

“Spirits, Tristan.” He's thinking about that nimble tongue now and all the ways and places he's experienced its prowess. “Damn, your mouth is amazing.”

 

A breathy laugh is his reward. “Fuck, I want your cock in me so bad right now. Think about it, Garrus,” Shepard is panting against his lover's face, chest and back taut as he struggles to contain his movements and his release. “Think about how it feels when you're sliding into me. Your cock is so fucking perfect. It fills me so completely, till I feel like I'm going to be torn apart, and it just feels so goddamn good inside my ass.”

 

Garrus is keening now, still trying to keep a desperate hold on his vocalization and his body's reaction, but he knows Shepard is doing this on purpose. Trying to get him to break, wanting to see him come undone. “Sh-Shepard,” Garrus warbles, feels Tristan's smile against his face.

 

“Your body is a work of art, Garrus. I could look at you all day and never tire of it.” His fist is pumping slowly up and down the turian's length, a firm grip but not too tight, and Garrus is mimicking the movements on his lover's dick. Shepard is doing a fairly good job of keeping his composure, but Garrus isn't fooled. He can read this human's body like a book, and Tristan is dangerously close to shooting off into turian's hand. He wishes he could think of something to say – just little something to send Shepard over the edge, but he's speechless at the moment, focused on the divine pressure building in his groin. “You look amazing in this suit, Garrus, but when we get home, I'm going to rip it off you, bend you over the back of the couch, and fuck your brains out.”

 

That and the added twist of the wrist around his head, the thumb skating across the slit of his cock are enough to force Garrus to let go. His body pitches forward, curling around Shepard's, forehead resting on his lover's shoulder as he still tries to keep a lid on his discordant subvocals. He feels Shepard's shirt against his softening dick; it's drenched through with the wetness of his release. But Shepard is still hard, still trembling with desire, and Garrus is still slowly working a fist up and down his hardened shaft, even as he quakes with the effects of his orgasm.

 

His come makes everything slippery, and Shepard groans against his lover's neck. “Feels so good,” he manages. Garrus nips at the skin of the human's throat, tongue darting out to taste that little patch just under his ear, then moving up to dip into the ear itself.

 

“Come on Tristan,” the turian rumbles. “Let it go. Come for me.”

 

The human's blunt teeth clamp down on the turian's neck, and Garrus thinks he might come again. Shepard's breath is harsh against him now. “Fuck, oh fuck,” he whispers grinding his hips forward and his face against Garrus. His cock twitches once, then he's coming, warm bursts of liquid spilling over Garrus' hand. The turian wraps his free arm around him, holding him tight as he trembles. “Holy shit.”

 

Garrus chuckles, nuzzles against his lover's neck for a moment, breathing in the scent of him. It's a smell that's come to mean “home” to him – warm and earthy and tangy. There's a fine layer of sweat on Shepard's skin, and Garrus can't resist tasting it, running his tongue across the man's Adam's apple and grinning as Tristan shivers against him. “You're such a bad influence on me,” the turian chides.

 

Shepard raises his head, grins lazily. “You're the one who started playing with my balls, remember?”

 

“Are we back to that again?” he asks as Shepard cleans them up with his shirt and begins tucking himself away. Garrus follows suit, and when Tristan gazes up at him, his eyes are filled with affection. Draping his arms around the turian's shoulders, Shepard brings their mouths together for a slow, lingering kiss.

 

“Come on. I'd like to take this dirty suit off. It's pretty uncomfortable now.”

 

Garrus laughs and takes Shepard by the hand. It's their last night of shore leave, but it's been an amazing couple of days. He doesn't want it to end, but he knows they can't ignore the war forever. Having Shepard to himself has been pretty terrific, though.

 

“How do you feel about marriage?” Shepard asks out of the blue as they stroll toward the apartment. Garrus stops in the middle of the street and looks at him, stunned. Shepard's eyebrows are raised expectantly.

 

“Well... I guess I'd feel pretty good about it... _if_ the right person were asking.”

 

“And if he were... what would you say?”

 

“ _Are_ you asking?”

 

Shepard nods, grins, steps closer to the turian. “Wanna get married, Vakarian?”

 

He pretends to mull it over, but the answer has always been yes wherever Shepard is concerned. It will always be yes. “Sounds like a good idea to me.”

 

“Alright, let's go!”

 

“What? Now?”

 

“Why not now? We're already wearing suits.”

 

“Suits with come all over them, remember?”

 

Shepard laughs again and tugs Garrus in a new direction, away from the apartment. “It'll be a great story for our grandkids one day!”

 

“That hardly seems an appropriate story for our- Wait! Did you say grandkids?”

 

“Yeah, I figure they'll all be krogan anyway. They won't care.”

 

“Sometimes I wonder what goes on inside that brain of yours.”

 

“Most of the time it's sex.”

 

Garrus laughs loudly and follows Shepard into the tackiest looking building he's ever seen. “Where are we?”

 

“Wedding chapel.”

 

“Wait... are you serious?”

 

Shepard finally stops and looks at him. “You don't want to?”

 

“No, I do, it's just...”

 

There's a frown before Shepard steps closer. “I love you, Garrus. I don't want to wait.”

 

“May not have the chance later, huh?”

 

Shepard shakes his head sadly. “What do you say?”

 

“What are we standing around here for?”

 

**

 

Shepard grins at the gaudy gold band on his finger as he leans back against Garrus' chest. “This is the ugliest wedding band I've ever seen.”

 

“That was the best looking one they had. The whole place was hideous, Tristan. Why was the minister wearing a sparkly suit?”

 

“He was an Elvis impersonator.”

 

“I have no idea what the hell that means.”

 

“It's not important. Just a silly thing humans do.”

 

“Humans do a lot of silly things.”

 

“Like marrying turian badasses on a whim?”

 

“That's just one example of many.” Garrus runs his fingers through the hair on Shepard's chest, loving the way it tickles. Of all the ways he imagined shore leave ending, this was certainly not it. Shepard picks up his husband's hand and fiddles with the ring on his finger. It barely fits to the first knuckle on his third finger

 

“I'll get you a chain so you can wear it around your neck. It can't be comfortable like that.”

 

“Not particularly.”

 

“Thank you for indulging in our silly human traditions.”

 

“I'm pretty fond of silly human traditions, actually,” he confesses, wrapping strong arms around his husband. “Especially ones that end with the two of us bonded for life.”

 

Shepard tips his head back, smiling up at the turian. “Best shore leave ever?”

 

“Definitely.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! 
> 
> Much love,  
> Elle
> 
> ellebeedarling.tumblr.com


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